


Snip. Snip.

by ChunkMonk



Series: the high school series [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Being a teenager is hard, Bonding, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, appearances by the rest of the gang, steve is such a dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 03:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChunkMonk/pseuds/ChunkMonk
Summary: "Will looked out from behind the frill of the curtain that lined the front window, observing the way Jonathan and Nancy and Steve danced around each other; it was an awakard display of body language and just seeing the pantomime play out in front of him was enough to make Will feel a pang of sympathy. Jonathan and Nancy were driving an hour away to a concert–some little known band that Jonathan adored and Nancy only tolerated because she loved him–and Steve had stopped by to drop off something or another that Nancy had apparently needed desperately. Will wasn’t exactly sure what the deal was with the three of them anymore. They weren’t exactly friends, but they weren’t enemies either. They had been through too much together for that. It was just weird. He’d wanted to ask his brother about all of it but had feared what other kinds of discussions it could bring up. They’d never discussed relationships and dating and such before and Will just….wanted to avoid that. At all cost."





	Snip. Snip.

**Author's Note:**

> More from my tumblr. I am working on a sequel currently

Will looked out from behind the frill of the curtain that lined the front window, observing the way Jonathan and Nancy and Steve danced around each other; it was an awakard display of body language and just seeing the pantomime play out in front of him was enough to make Will feel a pang of sympathy. Jonathan and Nancy were driving an hour away to a concert–some little known band that Jonathan adored and Nancy only tolerated because she loved him–and Steve had stopped by to drop off something or another that Nancy had apparently needed desperately. Will wasn’t exactly sure what the deal was with the three of them anymore. They weren’t exactly friends, but they weren’t enemies either. They had been through too much together for that. It was just weird. He’d wanted to ask his brother about all of it but had feared what other kinds of discussions it could bring up. They’d never discussed relationships and dating and such before and Will just….wanted to avoid that. At all cost.

When Jonathan’s car finally left the drive, it kicked up a cloud of dust that surrounded Steve as he stood there, watching them leave, and Will was struck with how small and broken Steve looked. Were girls really that much trouble? If so, Will was just glad he wanted nothing to do with them. 

As soon as Will saw him reach for his car door, he sprung into action. It was now or never really; he didn’t know the next time he’d even see Steve Harrington, let alone have everything be so perfect. Jonathan was gone, his Mom was working a double shift and wouldn’t be home till God knows when, and he had a few hours of free time before his friends came over, and this was a delicate matter, best left in the hands of experts and away from prying eyes.

He was out the door and across the porch in a flurry of steps, calling out to him. “Steve! Hey Steve, wait up!”

Steve paused, the car door halfway open. 

Will was nervous; he’d never actually had a conversation with Steve Harrington. He’d actually never said more than a handful of words to him, and even less was said when he wasn’t possessed by some sort of monster or something. This was a big favor to ask of anyone, and he wasn’t sure Steve would even say yes. Will was pretty sure he had better things to do than help out the geeky younger brother of his ex girlfriends new boyfriend.

“What’s up squirt?” He asked, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Something wrong?” Since the events of the mind flayer, Steve had been a lot more concerned–and downright parental if one thought about it–to the group. His eyes squinted and searched Will, as if expecting to see something physically wrong with him.

Oh, there was something physically wrong with him alright, but that was about to change.

“Uh, yeah. I, uhh, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised. “What kind of favor?”

——

“You sure you wanna do this kiddo? I mean, haven’t you had that look forever?’

“That’s exactly the problem.” Will shook his head as he sat down at the kitchen table. The strands moved like a heavy curtain around his face, silky and smooth, and he hated it. “I’ve had the same hair forever, and I want something new. I can’t start high school next month with a bowl cut. I look like a baby and I’m already small and weird enough as it is.”

Steve leaned up against the counter and surveyed the kitchen; it was probably the first time he’d been inside the Byer’s house when it wasn’t trashed and everything was going to shit.

“Why me? Doesn’t your Mom do your hair?”

Will sighed. “Yes, and she won’t do anything new. She likes this. She thinks it’s cute.” Will grimaced. “I think I look like a girl. Besides, Dustin said you helped him with his hair last winter and…”

“Wait, wait.” Steve held his hand up to stop him and scoffed. “You guys hated his hair! He told me you ragged on him for months!”

Will burst out laughing at the memory. Dustin had looked like a poodle, there was simply no avoiding the comparison. He schooled his expression into something more serious though when Steve crossed his arms defensively. That wouldn’t do. “We did, uh, but you’re the only person I know who knows anything about this.” He pointed at his hair, frustrated. “Hair. Style. What’s hip. You’re my only option here.”

“Gee, don’t you know how to make a boy feel special.”

“Please Steve? Please?” Will pouted, his eyes wide and pleading. If his wounded bird routine worked on his Mom, then Steve didn’t stand a chance. For a few tense minutes, with only the sound of the hallway clock ticking, the two were caught in a stand off; Will with his puppy dog eyes and Steve trying not to look at him as his resolve slowly crumbled. Like a rubber band that had been stretched to it’s breaking point, Steve suddenly popped up off the counter, looking vaguely put out.

“Ok, fine! I can do…something with this. I think.” He stepped forward and lightly began to run his fingers through Will’s hair. Will reflexively jerked back, shocked at how good it felt to have someone else’s fingers on his scalp (someone not his Mom) and Steve lightly hummed in response.

“Yea we’re gonna have to cut it.”

“Cut it?!” Will croaked. No, they couldn’t cut it. He wasn’t ready to cut it…was he? He only wanted a better style, something a bit more mature. “Do we have to?”

“Yeah. I’m good, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

“My Mom will kill me!”

“Eh, just tell her the mind flayer made you do it.” Steve shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mirth, and Will could only laugh in return. It was the type of response that only two people who’d gone through hell and back together could get away with. He liked Steve–a lot–and more than anything, he trusted him.

Mom would get over it….eventually.

“Ok.” Will acquiesced. “And you know how to do this then?”

“Yep. The barbers in this town are ancient. Do you think any of them coulda pulled off this?” Steve tossed his head back like he was in a Pantene commercial and Will giggled. “Did it myself. I have natural skills.”

“Ok, but nothing too…..MTV." 

Steve turned around and began pulling out drawers and rooting around. "Don’t worry kiddo, you get enough shit as it is. I won’t turn you into anything too Flock of Seagulls. Now you got any scissors in here or what?”

——

Steve had found the tiny AM/FM radio that Mom kept next to the sink for when she had to wash the dishes, and had filled the kitchen with softly playing music from the local Top 40 station while Will found the scissors his Mom used to cut his hair under the sink, and scrounged up the rest of the supplies. Ten minutes later his head was awkwardly lying back as Steve dumped cupful’s of warm water over it. It was better to cut it while wet, and after a thorough washing and a messy towel dry that had soaked the floor, Will was propped up on a stool, ready for his transformation to begin.

Slowly Steve began to run the comb through his hair, separating the knots, and was all but pressed up against Will’s back. It was nice to have this much attention directed on him by someone other than a family member or a government issued therapist. It was comforting, and the rhythmic back and forth over his scalp was beyond relaxing.

“So I’m gonna get rid of most of this length. Get it off your face. You have a nice face you know? It’s time to stop hiding it, and with this hair cut, and maybe some new threads, you’re bound to impress the high school chicks.”

Will stiffened immediately; no one ever spoke to him about this kind of stuff. No one ever talked to him about girls or impressing girls or any variation thereof, and he did his best to make sure of it. Usually no one brought it up–it was undoubtedly because they’d heard the rumors around town that certain bullies liked to spew–so it was a surprise that Steve had so casually mentioned it, as if it was totally normal that Will would want to impress girls. Date girls. That he was completely normal and not….the way he was. Did Steve really not know? Not that anyone knew, but had he never heard the rumors about the “queer” Byers kid? 

“Uhhhh…” Will trailed off, watching as splatters of water dripped from his hair onto the plastic tablecloth.

“No girls you’ve got your eye on then?” Steve said lightly, continuing his combing and seemingly unaware of the mess he’d just wandered into.

“Not really. No.”

“Ah.”

Will blanched. Ah? What did he mean by “ah?” It was impossible to infer anything from the tone of his voice–it had been disgustingly neutral and devoid of any kind of tell–and he was left frantically wondering what Steve did or didn’t know. He was also terrified of what he might ask next. Because of this, Will decided to mount an offensive and cut this line of conversation off at the knees before things got even worse.

“I just…uh….It’s just for me. The hair.” He rattled off, flustered. “No one else. There’s no one else. I mean…it’s not like there’s anyone I even…I don’t even….I….”

Shit. This was not helping.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, stilling him, and a calm voice was right next to his ear. “It’s alright kiddo. Take a breath. Take several. You’re starting to turn blue, and after all the shit you’ve made it through, I’m not about to let you keel over and die from adolescent panic.”

Will took a few deep pulls of air and looked up to see Steve looking at him with a peculiar expression. After a moment or two, he shook his head and grabbed the scissors off the table, stepping back to continue his ministrations.

“Adolescent panic?’ Will squeaked.

"Yeah. That’s what my old man used to call it. It’s easy to freak out and shit because all of your friends are starting to like girls or date and all that stuff. It’s cool if you don’t like anyone right now. More than cool actually.” He started separating sections of hair and Will heard the first snip of the scissors. Under the front leg of the stool a clump of dark, wet hair clung to the ground. “It’s almost better that way. It won’t mess your head up. You can focus on better things like getting good grades and getting the hell out of Hawkins. Or your family and your friends.” More snips. Snip. Snip. More hair fell to the ground. “Nah man, I say put that stuff off as long as you can.”

Will recognized the hurt and bitterness in Steve’s voice, obviously relating a bit of his own heartbreak into the situation, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. Because there was someone Will liked. He’d never had the guts to even so much as hint at liking someone before, because he knew it would just lead to questions he didn’t want to answer, but something about Steve’s presence made him want to open up.

“What if I, uhh, what if I…what if I do kinda, sorta….”

Steve’s fingers stopped. 

Please stay behind me, Will thought. This will be so much easier if I don’t actually have to look at you.

“….like someone.” He finished in one gust of breath.

“I see.” Steve picked up his cutting again. “Damn, and here I was trying to steer you back towards the light.” He laughed. “So who is this…” There was a loaded moment of silence, and Will felt himself tense up again. “…person that you like. Have you made a move?” He teased.

The distinct lack of a pronoun was noticeable. At least to Will. Perhaps Steve was finally catching on? Whatever the case, he was grateful. It was so much easier to talk about stuff like this in vague terms, and even talking about a hypothetical girlfriend made him want to stand up and run away.

“Well I think I like someone. I’m pretty sure I do. I’ve never liked anyone, before this….person so it’s all pretty new. And scary." 

Boy was that an understatement.

Steve moved over to the left and began cutting some more; the pile on the floor was growing exponentially. Will wondered where his Mom kept the broom. 

"Well, how does this person make you feel?”

“Make me feel?”

“Yeah, when you’re around them.”

Will sighed; he knew what he wanted to say, because he’d gone over it in his mind during every spare moment. During science glass, study hall, even gym class when he was supposed to be running the mile for the Presidential Physical Fitness test (he’d done exceptionally bad that year), he was busy dreaming of him. Will had made lists of all the things his favorite pair of brown eyes reminded him of, and all the different sounds his crush’s laughter sounded like. No, he knew exactly what his crush made him feel, but verbalizing it was a whole other story. So he played dumb.

“Uh. I dunno. Funny I guess.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah, like funny in a good way.”

Steve ran his fingers through the portion of his hair that was hanging in front of Will’s face and slicked it back, the snipping of scissors starting again. It was a weird sensation to realize that soon those ‘bangs’ would be gone forever. 

“I hear you. It feels sorta like you just ate something bad and your stomach feels kinds queasy and you’re not sure if you just got food poisoning or fell in love.”

“Steve that’s nasty. You’re making it sound like you have to poop.” Will snorted.

“Ok, so I’ve never been the best at flowery language, so sue me. But you can’t stop thinking about them, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And your heart does a weird little fluttery thing in your chest when you see them?”

“I think so.”

“You wanna be with them all the time? You think about them all the time? Would just about do anything for them just to see them smile?" 

Steve’s voice had drifted off, melancholy again, and the feeling was mutual.

"Yeah. Definitely.” Will sighed. “All of that.”

Steve set the scissors down on the table and began ruffling Will’s hair. “Sounds like you got it bad, kiddo. Welcome to officially being a teenager. It sucks. It’s never gonna stop sucking and it’s just gonna get worse until you grow old and die.”

“Gee, thanks.”

There was a moment of silence while Will worked up the courage to ask what he’d been wondering ever since they’d started this discussion, and Steve rubbed some sort of styling gel in his hair that they’d stolen from the bathroom.

“So, uh, all that stuff you described…is that how you feel for Nancy?”

There was a soft intake of breath. “Yea, I do. I did…I do…ah shit I don’t know. See what I said about it sucking?”

“I’m sorry that my brother–”

“Don’t even.” Steve stepped back into his eye line and tossed the comb on the table with a plop. “It just serves to highlight another sucky thing about love. You can’t help who you fall for and you have less control over whether or not he likes you back.” He faltered for a second, and recovered as gracefully as he could, but his eyes said he knew he’d fucked up. “ They. I mean they, you can’t control whether they like you back.”

So, not as clueless as he looks, that’s good to know, Will thought.

This time it was Will’s turn to be the calm one. “I know Steve, I know. Thanks.” He said, placing a hand lightly on Steve’s and giving it a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

Steve smiled, wide and genuine, clearly relieved that he’d avoided mucking up what had been a lovely heart-to-heart. “Ok lemme hit this with the blow dryer for a minute or two, and then we can check this bad boy out.

——

Steve did a few more adjustments to his masterpiece, fluffing here and flattening there, followed by a light shower of hairspray and then he stepped back, slamming the can of Aquanet onto the counter with finality. "It’s done. And I gotta say, it’s some of my best work.”

Will reached for the hand mirror on the table and braced himself; there was nothing he could do if he hated this, except wear a hat and beg for his Mom’s forgiveness. He just hoped he didn’t look like a male dancer on Solid Gold–all feathered out and poufy–and that the gang wouldn’t laugh at him.

“So, what’s the verdict?’ Steve asked after a few minutes of Will silently staring at himself.

"It’s…it’s perfect.” Will had to keep himself from squealing in an undignified manner. It was everything he’d wanted, but had no idea how to ask for. Gone was the bowl cut he’d been wearing for years, and in it’s place was a decidedly more grown up cut, making him look more like the almost-fifteen year old he was and less like a gradeschooler. For the first time in years his eyebrows and forehead were fully visible, as his hair was brushed back off his face, shorter on the sides and parted to the left, with just the tiniest hint of volume. Will admired himself for a few minutes and kept running his fingers through it, watching the strands fall back into place.

Steve was right, he did have a nice face. Who knew?

“Thank you Steve. I don’t know how to repay you.”

Steve turned around from where he’d been rummaging in the pantry, and handed him the broom. “Well when you’re done taking in your newfound beauty, you can start by cleaning this mess up before your Mom gets home. She’s scary.”

Will laughed, taking the broom from his hand. “I know. She scares me too.”

A few minutes later the kitchen was back to being spotless (as spotless as it was ever going to be) and Will was just about done wiping off the table when Steve turned up the volume on the radio suddenly.  
“Oh, I like this song! This is a good song. You like it?” He started dancing around with the dishtowel he’d used to wipe down the sink, cracking it at Will like a whip. “Too shy, shy, hush, hush eye to eye.”

“Yea it’s alright.” Will giggled, vaguely recalling it being a big hit.

“Kajagoogoo.” Steve said, drawing out each syllable while he bopped his head. “You know, you should stop being ‘too shy shy’ and tell this guy how you feel about him.” He stopped what he was doing over the sink and turned back to look at Will, raising one eyebrow. “Ah, ah see what I did there? Get it?”

“Shut up.” Will groaned at the lame joke and rolled his eyes. “You know when we all started middle school, the older kids told us that the coolest guy around was Steve Harrington, and to watch out because he would come and beat us up if we were dorks, because Steve Harrington didn’t like dorks.”

Steve turned around fully at that, and leaned up against the sink. “Well, that’s just dumb. Who the hell said that?’

"Lots of people.” Will shrugged. “But you know what? You’re kind of a dork yourself, you know that? You’re a pretty big dork.”

“Sssh, don’t tell anyone.” He winked as he balled up the dish towel and tossed it over the dishrack to dry. In that moment–that moment of hard won camaraderie–Will knew that it was finally ok. So he said it.

“Hey Steve..”

“Yea squirt?”

“It’s…it’s Mike.”

——

Somehow Steve didn’t look the least bit surprised to hear this information. He supposed that if Steve already wondered if Will was gay, that wondering if he’d had a crush on any of his close male pals was the logical conclusion. Will had always been closest to Mike, so the choice was obvious.

“I see. You wanna talk about it?”

Will wasn’t sure what to say; he’d never talked about it, nor had he ever imagined that if he was ever able to admit it, that anyone would want to hear what he had to say. Who wanted to hear a teenager moan awkwardly over his unrequited gay crush on his best friend? Still though, Steve was offering, and this could be his only chance to talk about these kind of things, out loud, like other teenagers did. Normal ones. 

“I like him a whole lot. A lot more than I should. More than a friend should feel for a friend.” He leaned back in his chair, slumping slightly and kept his eyes trained on his fingers where they traced patterns on the table top.

Steve pulled out a chair and sat down next to him. “Have you ever felt that way about a girl? Or just boys? Or just Mike?”

“I, ah, don’t really like girls. At all. So, yeah…it’s just boys. So, boys in general but Mike in particular.” His cheeks were burning, but he felt good. It felt good to talk about it. Still, he waited for the “maybe it’s a phase?” or “how do you know you don’t like girls if you don’t try?” and all the other kinds of lines he’d seen flung around once on an episode of The Phil Donahue Show, when the topic was homosexuality. He’d stayed home sick from school that day just so he could watch it. It was…enlightening.

“That’s cool.” Steve said, drumming the table top. He was trying for an air of nonchalance, but Will could still see it was a bit awkward for him. Regardless, he was doing a great job so far. “You know there are a lot of people out there just like you? Outside of Hawkins, in this great, big world of ours? I bet you’re not as different as you might think….and I think anyone who cares about you would understand that. Also,” He leaned in a bit closer. “Anyone would be lucky to have you like them.”

Will blinked back tears and, if he wasn’t mistaken, he swore he saw Steve do the same, though he was hesitant to actually look at him to see. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

"Cool. That’s good.” Will sniffled. “I don’t think Mike likes boys the way I do. He likes girls…like El.”

Steve was silent in his agreement, simply nodding along with a pained expression on his face. In this they were two peas in a pod; two souls wallowing in heartbreak.

“Yeah,” Steve joked. “Those Wheelers, nothing but trouble. If you were old enough I’d take you out to drink our troubles away but, like I said, your Mom is scary.”

“Thanks Steve.”

Steve smiled. “No problem kiddo. Don’t worry, you’ll get through this.”

At that exact moment the back door flung open, shattering the cocoon of friendship that Will and Steve had managed to surround themselves with, and it was back to the norm.

“At last we grace you with our presence!” Dustin cried out dramatically. “Max was taking forever or else we woulda been here ages ago.”

“Hey you little shits, don’t go banging around people’s doors like that, denting walls and stuff. And did anyone ever teach you how to knock?” Steve yelled, standing up from the table.  
Dustin, followed by Lucas and Max, and then Mike and El, all piled into the kitchen, and Dustin was just about to ask Steve why he was there (based on the confused expression on his face) when he noticed Will and almost did a double take.

“You look different. Why do you look different?” Dustin asked suspiciously, dumping the box full of D&D paraphernalia on the table. 

“He got a haircut stupid! How can you not tell?” Lucas replied. “It’s totally different.”

“Well I knew he looked different! I just said that! I just couldn’t tell right off the bat! Men don’t always notice those things 'cause they’re not that important.”

“Not important?” Lucas snorted. “Ok poodle boy.”

“Hey you said you would give it a rest!” Dustin whined, and the rest of the gang spread themselves out, moving away from the blast zone, but keeping an eye on them like a tennis match.

“I would if you weren’t being so ridiculous! It’s not crazy to see that Will lost a ton of hair! Are you blind?”

“I’m not blind!”

“Ladies, ladies, don’t make me break out the hose!” Steve interjected, annoyed.

“Well, you are the one who couldn’t even recognize a baby demogorgon so…”

“And you’re just pissy because I yelled at your girlfriend to hurry up like ten times.”

At that mention, Max chose her moment to step forward and finally put an end to the bickering. “You look good Byers, real good.” She smiled as she linked her arm through Lucas’. “Real handsome.”  
El’s eyes were taking him in, scanning his face as if looking for something there, and after a moment she spoke softly. “Yes, very handsome Will.” She smiled and linked her arm through Mike’s as well. Whether it was because she was simply mimicking Max (the two had grown awfully close lately) or because it was a subtle gesture of ownership, he had no idea. But the small action was like a knife to the heart. Unfortunately, his chest was littered with entry wounds, so what was one more?

“Yea man, you look good. Smooth.” Lucas nodded.

“Did you do this?” Dustin asked Steve in an accusing voice.

Steve crossed his arms. “Yes, he asked me to so I did it. What’s the big deal?”

“Because you made him look awesome and you made me look like a dog!” He yelled, taking off his hat and whacking him with it.

The whole room burst out into uncontrollable laughter, and Will was more than fine with letting it take some of the attention off of him. He’d wanted to look different–older–but he hated being stared at like some sort of zoo animal. While that was going on though, Will couldn’t help but notice Steve giving Mike strange looks out of the corner of his eye. At one point he was out and out staring at Mike, his eyes flicking down to where his arm was joined with El’s, a slight disapproving tilt to his head.

Oh God. 

“Steve, why are you staring at me?” Mike said at last, his own eyes narrowing back in suspicion. 

“I’m not staring at you. Why would I be staring at you?”

Will groaned internally. Why did he have to tell Steve Harrington a damn thing? Was he going to make this weird now? Was he going to go all concerned big brother and make this into a whole big thing?

“I don’t know!’ Mike threw his free hand up in frustration. "You tell me!”

“Maybe I’m just mad you didn’t say how you liked Will’s hair? Maybe I just thought you’d say something nice since, you know, all your friends did.” Steve crossed his arms and made a weird face. He shot Will a quick look over his shoulder.

Will felt his whole body go aflame in embarrassment. He really didn’t need to know how little Mike Wheeler thought about his personal appearance. 

“Uh, he, uh…..ah….” There was a familiar stuttering of words, followed by a familiar silence. Will looked up at him. He knew that kind of reaction well. “He looks…nice. Good. Nicely good…I mean, uh…he looks nice. The hair is good. It’s all….good.” He blew out a long breath, and the tips of his ears were bright red, and he nodded absentmindedly at the floor. The rest of the group were giving him 'what the hell was that man?’ looks, but Steve had it under control.

“Ok you little rugrats,” He clapped his hands loudly, drawing their attention to him. “Why don’t you go set this up in the living room, and I will make some snacks or something and then come join you guys, since I have nothing better to do on a Saturday night and no life apparently. Okay? Now scram!”

The group scattered away, grumbling as they left, and soon Will was left alone in the kitchen with Steve.

“Did you see that?!” He whispered excitedly, bending down to tug at Will’s arm. “Did you see that? Holy shit I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, but Wheeler there lit up redder than a Christmas tree! He could barely string two words together!!”

Will’s throat went dry. Was he saying what Will thought he was saying? He certainly knew what he hoped he was saying, but…

“I would definitely rethink your whole 'Mike doesn’t like boys’ hypothesis. 'Cause I’ve seen my fair share of crushes in my time and that little shit has got it bad for you.”

If it was possible, Will blushed even harder. Steve let out some sort of congratulatory whoop and called out “I call Dungeon Master because I AM THE MASTER!!” as he walked into the next room, arms thrown up into the air, and all Will could do was roll his eyes.

He’d think about these revelations–ohmygodohmygodohmygod–later, and what they meant for him, and Mike, and El. It was almost too much to process. For now, he was gonna go hang with his friends, and do his best to keep Steve from being Dungeon Master. That would just end badly for everyone involved.


End file.
